


May The Young Soul Flourish

by GoldenEntertainment



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Whump, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Potions, Spoilers, Tags May Change, Young Arthur Morgan, man i love adding tags before the next chapter comes out to scare the readers - freeform, maybe if you squint you can see the vandermatthews, no betas we die like men, sean fucks up, strange old ladies selling people strange potions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenEntertainment/pseuds/GoldenEntertainment
Summary: Sean and Lenny have a plan to pull a prank on Arthur with a potion but they don't know what it does.
Relationships: Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde, Sean MacGuire/Leonard "Lenny" Summers
Comments: 28
Kudos: 94





	1. All In Good Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> Am I starting another fic because I have ideas that just so happen to not include my other WIPs? Yes.

Sean jumped off of Ennis and swiftly made his way to Lenny, who was sitting by a tree reading. He looked up and greeted his friend only to be cut off by his excited yapping, only this time it was slightly hushed, almost as if he was planning something.  
  
“Lenny I think I have somethin’!” Sean said, plopping down next to him, ruffling in his coat pocket to pull out a strange bottle of _something._ “See this?”   
  
Lenny looked down at the bottle and furrowed his brows. “We’re not spiking someone's drink with laxatives, don’t think that’d slide well.”   
  
“Oh don’t worry, these ain’t laxatives”   
  
“Well then what is it?”   
  
Sean looked down at the bottle then back up at Lenny and cleared his throat, “Well that’s the thing, I don’t know, some ol’ lady on the outskirts of Valentine sold it to me, said she could tell I was the mischievous type and this would help me entertain myself.”   
  
Lenny looked at him incredulously, snatching the bottle from him, “If you don’t know what it is then we’re not using it on anyone, who knows what it could do!”   
  
“Ah c’mon Lenny! What’s the worst that could happen, eh? Someone gets an upset stomach for a couple o’ days or summat like that.” He reached forward for the bottle but Lenny kept in away from his grimy fingers.   
  
“Or it could kill them.”   
  
“You think some nice ol’ lady would sell me poison? Really?”   
  
“Nice old ladies can be much more ruthless than you may think.”   
  
“Ok, then smell it, you know yer way around the harmful shite, sniff it.”   
  
Lenny did just that, unscrewing the top and taking a tentative whiff of the unknown substance. It didn’t smell bad, it smelled like lavender, and it didn’t seem like a smell to throw you off since there was a faint smell of roots, a little mint hidden in there. It smelled like some sort of mixed tonic but for what? The bottle was about the size of his palm so he doubted he’d be able to get enough of a sip to test if it was safe and then still pull a prank on some poor soul with Sean but it smelt innocent enough. Feeling satisfied with his examination, he screwed back on the cap and handed the bottle back to Sean, who was looking pleased with himself.   
  
“See, it’s harmless!” Sean grinned. He took the bottle out of Lenny’s hands eyeing the camp, looking for a victim already. “I say we do Grimshaw, told me I was lazy couple days ago.”   
  
“Ok now hold up, I think Grimshaw would power through whatever that thing does and go beat your ass.”   
  
Sean crossed his legs and scratched his chin in thought. His gaze wandered from person to person. _Tilly? No, she’s too innocent. John? Nah, he would throw a fit and not in a fun way. Bill? He’s too drunk, probably wouldn’t even notice the effects. Jack? No that’s just mean. Arthur? Wait…_   
  
“Arthur.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“We’re doin’ it on Arthur.”   
  
Lenny let out a breathy laugh as he sat Sean back down. “Ok listen, Arthur’s got eyes like a hawk, how are you expecting to slip that in his drink? How are you even expecting to find him with a drink with no reason, he barely stays at camp, probably going to go off any moment now? And it’s not like we can just… I don’t know, start a party because we want to.”   
  
Sean thought for a moment before his expression went bright, “Ok, well I raise you this idea, we ask ta go huntin’ wit’ him, he’s gotta hydrate at some point, right?”   
  
“Knowing Arthur he probably spends his whole trips starving and dehydrated.” Which was true, both of them knew after Blackwater that Arthur was so caught up with keeping the gang sustained that sometimes he forgot about himself.   
  
“Not wit’ us around, ‘specially if we mention it, and he knows _we_ have ta eat at some point.”   
  
Lenny thought this over, before standing up. “Fine, wanna go ask him now? Don’t know how long we’ll have the chance, he’s already been here for a whole day.”   
  
Sean got up with him and they both made their way over to Arthur, who was writing in his journal by the campfire, which was now not much more than a couple embers in the daytime. The two of them sat down on the log next to him and sat for a while before Sean looked up at him.   
  
“Hey, King Arthur!”   
  
“Evenin’ Sean.” He replied, not even sparing the Irishman a glance, recognising the tone in his voice.   
  
“Ah cheer up ye sour ol’ bastard.” He stopped himself when Lenny gave him a nudge to say _‘Don’t piss him off if you want this to work’_ so instead, he took a breath after Arthurs silent scoff and carried on. “Hey, we been wonderin’, would you mind takin’ me and Lenny on a small huntin’ trip? We been holed up in this here camp with nutin’ to do. An’ Grimshaw breathin’ down our necks we’re forced to work our arses off every day, so we think freshening up the ol’ shootin’ skill on some deer would really help.” He paused. “And maybe give you some company?”   
  
He added the last part in, knowing it would either help out a lot or completely remove any chance of them going.   
  
Arthur let out a deep sigh and closed his journal, gently placing it in his satchel along with his pencil.   
  
“Never knew you were such a huntsman, Mr MacGuire.” He grumbled. Lenny smirked, knowing Arthur only called Sean by his last name when mocking him, and this was most certainly mocking.   
  
“We just want some time out of camp, but we know we probably won’t be let out on our own,” Lenny chimed in before jabbing Sean in the rib, “Especially with Sean’s recent mischief.”   
  
Sean held his critical reaction in, deciding to keep some of the mystery potion for Lenny later on.   
  
Arthur looked at the both of them sceptically, before softening and waving his hand, “Alright, I’ll talk to Grimshaw. But if she says no, that’s a no.”   
  
“Thank ya, Arthur!”   
  
“Quiet.”   
  
~~~

Sean had to admit, the New Hanover area was pretty. Rocky cliffs and running rivers with a touch of flat grassy terrain to contrast it.  
  
They head into Valentine first, buying some gun oil and horse provisions. The closer to Valentine, the more people, farmland and buildings but after heading further into The Heartlands, they found themselves stopping to take in the scenery.   
  
Arthur had warned them that although the area seemed nice, the people were crazy, which neither of the younger men had a hard time believing. The people in Valentine didn’t seem like the brightest of folk, and if that dumb look infested the rest of the state.   
  
The three passed an oil derrick, which Arthur took a stop to plot down on his map, before pointing over at a nice spot by a tree line where they could camp.   
  
“No one should bother us there.” He said, kicking his horse into a steady trot.   
  
They set up a small camp and Arthur went out to catch a rabbit for them to eat before getting ready for the main event.   
  
After Arthur left, Sean turned to his friend.   
  
“Did ya notice a flask on ‘im? Did he leave it?”   
  
Lenny set down his bedroll and turned to Sean with a look on his face that resembled a parent seeing their child run into a tree and carry on running as if nothing happened. “We can’t just do it immediately, gotta ease him in, besides how are you supposed to explain leaving one day with Arthur and returning the next with a corpse.”

  
“Ah, he won’t die, lad, an’ listen, if we do it now an’ it goes wrong, we’ll have more time ta get ‘im a doctor without it seemin’ strange.”   
  
Lenny let out a sigh, looking at Sean who had now taken to searching through Arthur’s tent, returning with a small leather flask.   
  
“Do I have permission to proceed?” Sean said in a mockingly civilised tone. Lenny only had to turn around and carry on setting up his bed and Sean had enough to unscrew the cap and dump the liquid inside. He waved the flask around to mix it all in nicely before returning it in its spot by his lantern.   
  
A large, evil grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he saw a familiar horse approaching with two new rabbits hung on the saddle by a rope.   
  
“He’s back!” He exclaimed, standing up and examining the rabbits on Arthurs horse.   
  
Arthur scoffed at his enthusiasm, simply taking the catch and setting himself down to harvest the meat off of the rabbit’s corpse.   
  
Lenny sat next to Arthur, helping with the other rabbit as Sean gathered everyone’s flasks in front of them, thinking maybe Arthur would take a sip seeing the others do so.

  
As they ate, Sean kept a keen eye on Arthur’s flask. Whenever Arthur looked at it, he’d take a drink from his own. Lenny and Arthur were conversating about something, but Sean wasn’t paying attention. He had to suppress his triumphant smile as he watched Arthur reach down, take his flask and take a big swig of it.   
  
Knowing his job was done, Sean finished his meal and returned to his tent, where he quickly fell to sleep.


	2. Youth Has No Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is... different to say the least, and Sean isn't too keen on seeing what will happen when they get back to camp.

“Sean get up!”   
  
Sean didn’t get a chance to even open his eyes before he felt a harsh tug on his arm which pulled him up and out of his tent. He stumbled forward and saw a blurry Lenny frantically pointing at him and Arthur’s tent. He was saying something but Sean wasn’t in focus yet.   
  
“And how are we going to explain this? Huh? Oh, he tripped and fell, they won’t believe that, and no doctor can perform miracles to bring him back to normal!” Lenny ranted.   
  
Sean hushed his friend by sloppily placing a hand of his shoulder, “The fuck are ye talkin’ about? He dead or summat?”   
  
Lenny stared daggers back at Sean before walking him over to Arthurs tent. He made sure he was looking then dramatically opened the flap.   
  
Sean rubbed his eyes to get a clearer picture since he had just been cruelly woken up and when he saw Arthur, his jaw dropped.   
  
Was that Arthur?   
  
Yes. He could see a couple of key features that resembled him. His eyes stayed the same, that sad look never seemed to calm. His cheeks stayed that ruddy red, but some other things were different. Firstly, his scars and wrinkles weren’t there, making his face look soft and innocent compared to his usual rough ‘n tough state, a permanent scowl etched into his face. The young boy’s nose also seemed to be softer and straighter, there was still a slight bump on his bridge but not as prominent.    
  
Only thing was, he wasn’t exactly  _ Arthur _ . Or he was, he couldn’t tell you.   
  
In a small pile of oversized clothes sat a very angry Arthur, only he was a child. His arms were crossed, his nose was scrunched up, and he was glaring at Sean, and Sean didn’t doubt that he wanted to throw him off a cliff if he could.   
  
“Oh.”   
  
“Yes oh!” Arthur squeaked. It was far less intimidating since it seems he hadn’t hit puberty yet in this  _ form _ , but Sean still felt startled at the very least. “Look at me! I’m a child! Was that why you were so intent on getting back to camp for supper?”   
  
“Arthur I’m sorry!” He replied, holding back a laugh at the sight.   
  
Lenny mumbled something to himself and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And now, we’re going to find that old lady and ask her how to get him back to normal.”   
  
“Hell if I know where she’s gone, could be anywhere by now.”   
  
Lenny sighed in disbelief and Arthur grumbled.    
  
“Well, I guess we have to get him back to camp.”   
  
Arthur looked down at himself then back at Lenny, “And how are we meant to do that? I step out of this tent, my clothes are immediately falling off.”   
  
Sean looked at Lenny, “I’ll stay here with him, apologies, would you mind getting him something to change into more… his size.”   
  
Lenny threw up his hands but complied, getting on his horse and riding to Valentine.   
  
Sean sat at the entrance to Arthur's tent, while Arthur threw a silent fit to himself. “Fuck you.”   
  
Sean sighed. “I’ve messed up mighty, haven’t I?” Arthur only looked down and hugged his crossed arms closer to his chest. Sean looked down at the poor boy and pursed his lips, thinking of what tortures he’d be put through back at camp when Dutch, Hosea or god forsake Grimshaw found out.   
  
He kept looking at Arthur, who had now taken to calming down only slightly and playing with the collar of his shirt, attempting to get it to cover as much of his neck as possible without falling to his shoulders. He was fairly skinny compared to his usual self, which Sean estimated to mean he was skinny at this time.   
  
“How old are ye right now anyways?” The question blurted out his mouth, he knew it was seen as a rude question to ask but he’d already fucked up enough, he didn’t think this would be that outlandish.   
  
“I don’t know, ten? Maybe?” Arthur gave up on fixing his collar and instead took to picking at his gun belt. “I don’t know why I know, sort of just have that feelin’.”   
  
“I understand.” He paused. “I think.”   
  
Arthur huffed. Sean couldn’t tell if this was a huff of amusement or disappointment but it was a huff of some sort. Sean decided maybe he shouldn’t ask questions and left Arthur to make patterns in the leather of his gun belt with his fingernail, keeping a keen eye to make sure Arthur doesn’t reach for his revolver. He may be a child but Sean doesn’t doubt he could blow his brains out at this moment, most people wanted to blow Sean’s brains out.    
  
They both heard the angelic sound of Maggie’s hooves approaching and the soft thud of Lenny as he hops onto the grass.   
  
He handed Arthur the clothes and they left Arthur to have some privacy.   
  
“Looks like he’s done being mad,” Lenny mentioned, packing his tent away, “Instead, he looks upset.”   
  
“I mean if ye just got turned into a child, wouldn’t’cha?”   
  
Lenny looked back at the tent, hearing a small grunt from Arthur getting into his clothes, “I guess. I just feel like it could have been prevented, and who knows how long it’ll take for Arthur to get back to normal. What if he has to start his teenage years all over again?”   
  
With Ennis comfortably packed, Sean was ready for departure. “Dontcha go blaming yourself now, lad, it was me idea and I brought ye along fer it. Not the other way around.” He rounded his horse to look back at Lenny’s face, the sun nicely landing on his dark features through the cracks in the trees. “We’ll get ‘im to camp and see what happens. Dutch’ll probably send me out to find the old croon that sold me the damned bottle in the first place, as well as probably some other punishments but y’know what, I probably fuckin’ deserve it, so what, I’ll do it.”   
  
Just then, Arthur crawled out of his tent. Lenny hadn’t gotten him anything fancy but the boy seemed content with what he had, a simple cotton shirt, suspenders, black pants and some boots. Arthur took his belt and wrapped it around his shoulder like a bandolier. He wore his gamblers hat tilted back on his head to keep it from falling forward on his face, obviously a bit big.   
  
“Lookin’ fine, Arthur!” Sean exclaimed, trying to cheer him up, and it seemed to work, a weak smile appearing on the boy’s face although hidden when Arthur tilted his head down at the praise.   
  
There was no way Arthur would be able to ride his shire, who Arthur himself liked to describe as ‘a huge, stubborn son of a bitch’, so Sean lifted Arthur onto the back of his own horse.   
  
The ride back to camp was an awkward one. None of them talking but instead keeping their eyes on the road and trotting along the dirt road. No one bothered them, thankfully, but they began nearing the camp and started seeing the campfire smoke peaking at them from behind the cover of the tree canopy.

  
“Bill’s probably on guard duty right now, if he asks any questions just don’t say anything, we need to get straight to Dutch,” Lenny remarked. And he was right, they had only just started seeing the safe sight of camp when they heard a rough voice.    
  
“Who’s there?”   
  
“It’s just us, big man, calm down.”   
  
“Sean, how nice. Hello Lenny.”   
  
Lenny waved at him as he passed. Arthur was hiding in his jacket behind Sean, not wanting to confront Bill right now, but to his dismay, he asked: “Where’s Arthur?”   
  
They should’ve guessed he’d ask, seen as Arthurs horse was riderless.   
  
Sean kept walking but looked over his shoulder, “Not important right now, where’s Dutch?”   
  
“In his tent.” Bill eyed them but didn’t push it further, mostly because the two had already started hitching their steeds.   
  
Lenny went to get Dutch and Sean was left alone with Arthur again, this time though, not awaiting his dear friend with some new clothes for the young lad, but what was definitely going to be a thrashing from Dutch and Hosea.   
  
Arthur sat on the hitching post, kicking his legs out in front of him, holding his jacket close around him. It wasn’t hard to tell that he too was not too pleased with having to face Dutch, who was now walking towards the two at a leisurely pace. It took him a moment to get close, which only made the waiting more painful.   
  
“Lenny said we have a problem?” Dutch spoke nonchalantly as if he didn’t see the child slowly curling into himself.   
  
Sean cleared his throat, which didn’t do much, his throat still dryer than any summer back west he had experienced. “Well.” He started, motioning at Arthur, “We may have… shrunk? De-aged? Youngified Arthur.”   
  
Hosea had joined the group and when he saw Arthur there was a certain sparkle in his eye. “That you have.” He breathed, approaching Arthur, who looked like he was ready for a hole in the ground to open up and suck him into the abyss, “How exactly did you manage to do this?”   
  
“We…” He stopped himself when he felt Lenny’s glare burn holes in the side of his face, “I bought some bottle from some witch in Valentine and I wanted to test it on someone, and Arthur just so happened to be um… available.”   
  
Arthur grumbled at his choice of words, making it sound like he agreed to this, even though he most certainly did not. But Hosea contrasted Arthurs displeasure with very profound joy. Dutch too had a little twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his lips but decided to stay quiet, knowing Hosea would embarrass him enough.   
  
“I haven’t seen you so small in years!” The older man hollered as he looked at Arthur’s face, cupped in his hands. Arthur tried to remove his head from Hosea’s grip but the elder had a firm grasp and intense adoration in his intentions so he stayed. “Hell, I think you’re smaller than when we first picked you up! How long ago was that now? Dutch help me out, was it 20 years ago? How time flies!”   
  
Dutch chuckled and palmed his friend’s shoulder to tell him to cease his torture on the young boy. “Although I too am very keen on being able to raise Arthur again, we do have to return him to his normal state.”   
  
Hosea sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Sean where did you say that witch was? Valentine?”   
  
“Well, yes, but she could be anywhere by now, and I doubt she’d stick around after selling them damned youth remedies to people.”   
  
Dutch looked down at Arthur, “Very well.” A smile pulled at the corners of his lips, “For the time being though, we can have a little fun with poor Arthur here. Oh, the girls are gonna love him like this if he is still what he was like at this age.”   
  
“Well, he’s acting just like he did when we first picked him up, so most likely yes.” Hosea grinned.   
  
Sean was glad they weren’t as mad as he predicted, it seemed they were more punishing Arthur though, marching him into camp, presenting him to everyone in his state, beaming as they did. Arthur put up with it, but not without a twisted scowl on his face, which only made most of the camp giggle at this new change even more.   
  
“Well, you got off lucky.” Lenny coughed.   
  
“Luck o’ the Irish, I tell ye!”   
  
His friend laughed. “Even Grimshaw seems soft at baby Arty.” His tone on the last few words turned mockingly sweet as if he was actually talking to a baby.   
  
By the end of the day, everyone was aware of Arthur’s  _ situation _ . But the kid didn’t stick around to have questions asked, departing to his tent early, pulling down the flaps (although he did need to stand on his shaving crate to reach them), going to bed with the sun still up. The camp immediately hushed, due to Grimshaw cursing anyone who raised their voice near Arthur’s tent, assuring him good rest.


	3. It All Seems Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter is shorter and not much happens, just want to show how the gang has been reacting here. Next chapter should be more eventful
> 
> 25/01/2021  
> I HAVEN'T LEFT THIS FIC FVDGOSA It's been a little bit but things have been happening, but don't worry, I have the next chapter almost done, had to redo it, like, 5 times because I don't know what I want to write now and what to write later SO YEAH IM NOT DEAD

Hosea had his cup of coffee in hand. His eyes gazed over the camp in the early morning sunlight, the golden rays illuminating everything in a rich yellow-orange hue. He was in a good mood today. It was good to see Arthur back in his more childish state, and it filled Hosea’s insides with a warmth he had not felt in years, and to be honest, he had completely forgotten that he should be mad at Sean for feeding Arthur mysterious fluids.   
  
His son was still sleeping in his tent, seeming to have gotten his long loss accepting for sleep, and surely the kid was going to be tired. They did parade him around camp after all, and Lord above knows what he had to go through with Lenny and Sean before he even got to camp, and now everyone was eyeing he was going to perform tricks at any moment.   
  
Soft footsteps in the grass broke him out of his calm train of thoughts.   
  
“Morning, old friend. What do you see out there?”   
  
Hosea turned to Dutch, giving him a warm smile before looking back towards the camp. “Not much, just thinking.”   
  
“What’re you thinking about?”   
  
Hosea took a sip of his coffee. “Arthur.” He said, “And how it’s good to have him back like this, all small and cute. Brings back good memories of when we first found him.”   
  
Dutch let out a breathy laugh, remembering himself when they had first picked up Arthur, cold (both physically and figuratively) and fragile, wary of any small noise of movement, before warming up to become one cocky bastard. Could have probably out-played Sean in the number of jokes he pulled on both he and Hosea. There was always that sadness there, but he did a damn good job at hiding it behind the mask of his chaotic self.

“I wonder if he’ll be hiding mice in people’s boots again, or hiding their hats on their own horse.”   
  
“I think after all this time he must have come up with something new,” Hosea smirked.   
  
“You never know, they don’t know what he used to pull.”   
  
“Sean mentioned he was ten though, like this. Might take a little for him to realise Lyell’s not out to get him. Lenny told me he’s been acting strange so maybe that potion aged him down mentally too? You think it would bring back memories of this time though?”   
  
Dutch pondered for a moment. “It is possible, dear friend.” He glanced at Arthur’s tent, to see the boy was up and out of bed. “We’ll see in due time, for now though, let’s enjoy ourselves. I’ve sent Sean out to find that which he got the vial so we might not have this last too long.”   
  
Hosea sighed, “You’re right. Let’s calm down on the teasing though, don’t want Arthur to dig himself a hole too early on.”   
  
Dutch cocked a grin, “Need I remind you that it was you who started gushing over him like a little girl who got a puppy for Christmas?”   
  
“Silence, we’re not arguing now. It’s too beautiful a morning for that.”   
  
Dutch cooperated, for once, watching over the camp by Hosea’s side.   
  
Hosea felt comfortable with the younger man there, felt like the old days when they could sit down together and not get bothered and watch over their children all day.   
  
Speaking of their sons, they watched Arthur struggle to pour himself a bowl of stew, his arms too short of reach up and into the pot, but luckily Abigail was nearby so she helped him out. The annoyed pout on Arthurs’ face was apparent to everyone who watched.

  
Arthur sat with Lenny, Charles and Abigail by a table, and the two old men could see Abigail was fussing over Arthur, giving him a cloth tucked into his collar so he wouldn’t spill his stew onto his shirt, Arthur spitting back that he didn’t need it and he wasn’t an actual child. It didn’t help him since Abigail was almost as stubborn as he.   
  
Lenny and Charles watched the two with subtle amusement, smiling at the sight as they ate, throwing in a comment or two at times.   
  
“Boy better prepare for Abigail’s mothering.” Dutch chuckled, “Grimshaw too now that I think about it.”   
  
Hosea shook his head in amusement at the thought of what torture Arthur will have with Grimshaw. “Kid won’t be able to do shit with those two, they won’t take nothing.”   
  
Hosea glanced in Grimshaw’s direction. The woman was sitting on a crate by the other girls, sewing a shirt together but stealing a glance in Arthur’s direction every so often.   
  
“Gone soft have you, Grimshaw?” He heard Karen tease.   
  
The older woman only scowled in her direction before returning to her work.   
  
The camp seemed to take this change in Arthur pretty well, none of them teasing him too much. Bill already made that mistake though, and Arthur had already hidden a frog in his hat and replaced his bottle of beer he had been sipping on with water when he wasn’t looking, which was surprising since Bill seemed to never take his eyes off the thing.   
  
Hosea let himself relax into his seat and gently sip his coffee.


	4. Situations of Past and Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it took a while to get this one out, couple things happened that caused this fic to take a while ;-;

A huge storm rolled in that night. The thundering was distant but as the day stretched on it only neared. Arthur felt nervous all of a sudden. He didn’t understand why the storm was making him feel this way but he didn’t feel like sleeping just yet so he stayed up.   
  
He was sitting with Hosea, them reminiscing on old times when Arthur was  _ actually _ 10\. Well, it was more Hosea reminiscing and Arthur sitting in embarrassment as he remembered all the things he used to do.   
  
Hosea saw the storm, as well as the silent anxiety behind Arthurs’s eyes and edged nearer to him.   
  
“You know, when we first brought you in, you were deathly afraid of storms.” He stated, his smile flattening slightly.   
  
Arthur looked up at Hosea, the man telling him about Arthur’s first proper nightmare at camp, how a storm had caused it, and how they still don’t know why it happened, to this day.   
  


Arthur never liked storms, he couldn’t remember why anymore, but there was still something there that made him fear them.   
  
Arthur blinked and steadied his gaze on Hosea, who was now talking about how Arthur climbed up a tree and didn’t realise earlier he wouldn’t be able to get down, prompting Dutch to go up after him.   
  
The storm had gotten nearer and nearer throughout the story, and by the time it was done the two could feel cool droplets landing on them. Hosea ushered Arthur to bed, as the rest of the camp dispersed to their respected tents and shelters.   
  
~~~   
  
Arthur lay in his cot looking up to the ceiling of his tent. The flaps were down, as usual, but he couldn’t help but see the storm clear as day. The light sound of droplets outside felt like pins falling on his skin. After a while of no results, he curled up in a ball and looked at the picture of his mother on his bedside table.   
  
He felt like he should know her features by now, with how often he looked at it for comfort, but every time he did he found something new on her face that was soft and kind like the rest of her. His memories were set back to his younger self so her face seemed more familiar, which only caused the usual pit of want in his stomach to seem to open up and eat him whole.   
  
He sat up. His hands raised to rub his eyes, and one then slithered out to reach for the picture. He looked at her. Slowly dragging his gaze around the picture. He looked to his side and saw his father’s picture that he kept around, for some ungodly reason.   
  
  
He raised the framed picture in his hand, to the tattered, slightly ripped up on of his father and snorted as he thought of how such an innocent person ended up starting a family with some lowlife degenerate.  _ Well, I guess the same happened with Eliza and Isaac.  _ He thought, but for some reason, the thought of them didn’t hurt right that moment, as if he didn’t know them. He supposed he didn’t know them just yet, still had a couple of years to that.   
  
He predicted he wasn’t going to get much sleep with all this thinking, so he pulled his blankets around himself and got up out of his cot, nearing the small opening in his tent flaps. His peaked outside and just as he thought, the ground beneath him was muddy, and the air was filled with small droplets pelting down at them, like little bullets.   
  
He heard hushed voices to his right, and when he looked over he saw a low light coming from the girls’ tent, illuminating silhouettes that sat on their bedrolls.   
  
Not wanting to drown his feet in the mud, he quickly puts on his boots and sneaks through the tent flaps, heading towards the light.   
  
He got closer to the whispers and they stopped. The silhouettes looked in his direction and a soft voice called out for him.   
  
“Arthur, what are you doing up?”   
  
Tilly looked at him with a confused expression, but her brows knit together in worry when she noticed him huddling his blanket to him.   
  
“Couldn’t sleep.” He said, simply.   
He sat to where Karen motioned him to sit. The three women looked down at him and he didn’t like how small he was next to them, in comparison to him usually being much taller than all three of them. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with being shorter than a woman, unlike some others in the gang, as he had met his fair share of giant women and he truly admired it, except in that moment he didn’t want to be reminded all the time he was a child, not even mentioning of strange it was to see three poorly-lit faces looking down at him.

“You ok, Arthur? Why couldn’t you sleep?” Karen asked, to which he simply shrugged. It wasn’t _rude_ per se, since he really didn’t know why, but he also didn’t want to talk about it. “Ok… well, I suppose we can finally talk to you a little, seeing that Grimshaw is nowhere around to beat our asses about it.”  
  
Arthur didn’t like the sly grin that painted itself on her face.  
  
Tilly sighed, “We’re not going to tease him at this ungodly hour of the night, look at him, he’s tired! He needs rest.”  
  
“Ok, then little Ms Mama Bear, we can tuck him in all nice and warm later, but come on! Arthur’s tiny, and you expect me not to take advantage of that?”  
  
Arthur didn’t like how they were talking about him as if he wasn’t sitting right next to them looking up to them with a face filled with despair for the near future.  
  
Karen turned back to him and ruffled his hair. “I mean, look at him, cute bastard. Little rosy cheeks and button nose.”  
  
Arthur wanted to melt into the floor, never to be seen again, but his scowl only seemed to fuel Karen’s bloodthirst. “Aww, look at him, tryin’ a’ be all rough and tough, gotta wait a couple a’ years buddy.”  
  
Mary Beth chuckled from where she read her book, and Tilly took to rubbing his back as a counterweight of comfort to Karen’s embarrassment.  
  
“I’ve realised people really like picking on children,” Arthur grumbled, earning him an extra ruffle of his hair.  
  
“Only when they used to be big angry men a day before.” Karen chortled, pinching his cheeks, which he _hated,_ “Besides, we can’t tease Jack, we’d feel too bad, and Abigail would be on our backs.”

  
Arthur grunted, “Just hope Sean gets back with that old hag.”   
  
Karen brought her hands back to her lap. “That boy can’t track for shit, don’t think he’ll be coming back soon.”   
  
“Can’t track, unless if it’s a bottle of liquor,” Tilly added.   
  
Tilly carried on rubbing circles into his back, and he had to admit, it did its job at soothing him. Soon enough he let out a small yawn (which Karen quipped at) and felt himself being laid down on the floor, his blanket surrounding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one may seem all over the place, but next chapter is gonna be where everything starts happening so bear with me on this one fdgisa I have a goddam PLAN


	5. The Antidote

Miss Grimshaw did her usual rounds in the morning to keep everything in check. She hid a couple of bottles from Uncle, told Bill to get moving, greeted Dutch and Hosea, and got the rest going on their chores.

The camp was calm this morning.

Lenny greeted her as he picked up his rifle, ready for guard duty when she remembered she had recently received a huge load of ripped clothes from the gang’s recent fights which needed to get fixed.

She was making her way over to the girls, who were chatting among themselves while sewing together some shirts. When she approached, Karen stopped her with a look and a finger over her lips, advising her to be quiet.

Before she could ask why, Tilly pointed to the small shape inside the tent. When she recognised just what it was, the usually uptight and strict woman softened. Ignoring the teasing snickering that came from Karen, she made little noise as she stepped over to where Arthur lay and knelt next to him.

Her question of what he was doing in their tent was answered with a simple, “Couldn’t sleep, because of the storm” which, from experience, made sense.

She gently stroked a hand through Arthur’s hair and undid some of the knots at the nape of his neck, feeling a little tension leave his body as she did. When she was satisfied she wished the girls well and left for Pearson’s wagon to get herself some breakfast.

\---

Arthur’s vision was obscured by both the blinding morning sunlight, and the shadows cast by the three figures in front of him. His stirring caused one to turn around.  
  
“Morning Arthur.” A sweet voice said to him, which he pinpointed as Mary Beth’s.  
  
He grunted in response. The sleep wasn’t rubbing off his face when he swiped a hand across as he squinting to be able to see through the early morning haze.

“You get a good sleep?” Karen asked, “Better have, you slept in quite a bit.”  
  
A small chuckle escaped her and he gave his breathy laugh as he saw that the camp was already up and running, which was a strange sight as he was usually one of the early risers.  
  
“The old hag is soft for little Arthur, y’know,” Tilly mentioned, not even turning around.  
  
“What’chu mean?”

“She came round to yell at us but when she saw you she piped down and made sure you were comfy.”

Mary Beth laughed. “Motherly instincts I guess.” She looked around the camp, “Abigails been eyeing you too, making sure you don’t do anything foolish.”

“Well, that’s nothing new I guess.” Arthur joked, although he had noticed the protectiveness Abigail had shown towards him. He didn’t mind it but hoped he wouldn’t be treated like poor Jack. “I am a foolish man.”

Before Karen could question his remark of being a man, the sound of hooves galloping in their direction, followed by a yell from Lenny, caught their attention. Looking to the entrance of the camp, they saw Sean riding in on Ennis, a wide grin on his face, and under further inspection, he had a guest.

“Sean, what is this?” Dutch bellowed from his tent as he strode over to the Irishman, not expecting the sudden company.

“It’s the hag!” Sean explained, “Don’t you worry though, Dutchy, she don’t know how she got ‘ere. Blindfolded her! Just like you said!”

The lady was, in fact, sporting a blindfold, which Arthur identified as Sean’s bandana. She seemed content with not being able to see as she looked off into the distance, but Arthur could tell she was smirking and listening intently to the commotion in front of her.

He watched her closely. She was a short old woman, her back hunched, and wore a long dark blue dress with a black coat over it. She had a kind demeanour, and even though she was in an unfamiliar camp with big men with guns, and blindfolded nonetheless, she wore a small smile.

Seemed innocent enough.

Sean helped her down and removed the blindfold. She looked around her, locking eyes with Arthur. She had pale blue eyes, which Arthur almost mistook for white. She pointed at him and said something to the men next to her, and they nodded. She hobbled over to him and he didn’t know whether he should run away or towards her.

Hosea sat at a table not far off and kept a close eye on the woman as she approached Arthur. He didn’t much like her, for obvious reason, supposing that taking a good couple years off of his son was a reason to not trust a person. Setting down his newspaper and watching as the lady sat down and spoke to him, he saw Arthur wringing his hands as the two spoke. He seemed anxious so the older man stood up and got closer, greeting the girls as he did.

“...and I woke up the next day and now I’m like this.” Arthur recited.

The lady smiled. “Has your memory changed at all since you changed?”

“I guess. I can remember things that happened before I was 10 much more vividly. Sure I remember things after but it’s a bit foggy.”

Hosea saw a small glint in the woman’s eye that he did not like. He couldn’t quite place what it would mean, which frustrated him, but he scowled when she reached out and put a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“That means it’s working how it’s meant to.” The lady told Arthur, but he only scrunched up his face and crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
“But I don’t want to be a child! I have things to do and I can barely reach into the damn stew pot!”

“Ah-ah!” She waggled her finger in front of Arthur’s face. Neither Hosea nor Arthur liked how comfortable she has gotten in the past few minutes. “If you want to revert the changes, you will, but it’ll take a while.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean!” Arthur growled, getting more frustrated as she went on.  
  
“Don’t worry, dear.” She pulled a small flask out of her coat and held it out in front of him. “How old were you? Before you drank the first potion?”  
  
“36.”

“And how old are you now?”  
  
“10.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, which she quickly tamed, but Hosea noticed.  
  
“That means it should take you 26 weeks to get back to normal.”  
  


Arthur’s eyes went wide and he looked like he was about to throw the witch into the water trough a couple steps away. He probably would have, if he wasn’t half her size. Hosea was more than willing to do it for him.

“Every week you will age one year. Meaning a week from drinking this, you will be 11. You will, though, go through all the stages of growing up as usual, and behaviours you showed during each year will reflect on how you act.”

Arthur kept quiet, but Hosea knew he was scanning his mind for what that would mean would happen in the next couple of weeks.

After a moment of thought, Arthur sighed and reached out for the potion before pausing. “You promise this will fix…” He pointed down at himself. “This? This ain’t a trick?”

The lady smiled. “I swear on my mama’s life that there’s no trick.”

Arthur grumbled something about not even knowing her mama, before drinking the entire bottle.

Something changed in Hosea, a huge distrust in the lady and how easily Arthur had just drunk some strange liquid that was promised to fix his current situation, but he supposed it couldn’t get any worse than it already did.

“If something happens to the boy, you can be certain we’ll find you.” Hosea threatened, before walking back to a table to carry on watching from afar.

Sean pulled the blindfold back on the lady and she was escorted out of camp.

~~

“So, how’re yer feelin’?” Sean approached Arthur later that day. The boy was sitting under a tree and drawing in his journal, as usual.  
  
“Fine.”

Sean looked at him for another moment, expectantly. When nothing more came, he furrowed his brows and sat down next to him. Arthur still said nothing, just closed his journal, sighed, and looked out on the country in front of him.  
  
“Any… changes?” Sean added in an attempt to coax him into talking.   
  
“It’s been what, an hour? Lady said nothing will happen till next week.”   
  
“Next week?”   
  
Arthur grunted in affirmation. Toeing a twig in front of him.   
  
Sean sighed. “I am sorry, fer all this.”   
  
“Oh no, I’m not thinking about that.” Arthur said, looking up at the Irishman, “Just kinda tired with not being able to leave on my own and do what I want, not like I can’t handle myself, height and age be damned.”

Sean looked at him. He knew Arthur was never one to sit in one place for a long time, and with his current state, if Dutch allowed Arthur to go, he’d also have Hosea, Grimshaw and Abigail to get by.

The boy sighed. “Being a kid sucks.”  
  
Sean found it rather ironic while trying to prove he’s old enough to go out on his own, he proceeded to be very childish. He mulled over his options and decided the best way to make it up to him was to take him out of camp for a bit.   
  
The boy’s face lit up at the request. “Really? When? Please let it be as soon as possible!”   
  
“Hold up there, laddy! We need to talk to Dutch first about this, don’t even know if he’ll let us!”   
  
Arthur sprinted off to his tent before Sean could stop him, and the man laughed at this new version of Arthur which he both knew, and was still learning about.


	6. Conman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta reader, so any mistakes are my own

They were allowed to go into town. Sean liked to think it was his irresistible charm that caused the elder members to let them go, but he knew it was probably just them all knowing that Arthur can’t sit still in one spot for too long. Nonetheless, they were on the road to Valentine, Arthur sitting behind Sean on Ennis and idly kicking his legs into the air. Sean found it endearing, really, how much Arthur had changed other than the obvious physical change.

The boy was a lot more skittish, almost jumping six feet into the air when Sean clapped him on the shoulder to tell him Dutch had agreed. He had also adopted that childish gaze at anything slightly uncommon. Tilly had shown him a rainbow in the distance and usually, Arthur would have smiled and brushed it off, but instead, he stared at it with a wonderstruck look on his face, mouth agape.

The others had taken a liking to this _new_ Arthur, as they said. The kid enjoyed teasing them, as Hosea had warned he would, but he also seemed to make up for it, which was strange. He had pissed off Bill in some way, Sean didn’t know what he did - since it was so easy to piss Bill off - but the old coot seemed very worked up about it. That was until Arthur approached him shyly while he was drinking by the fire, handing Bill a tub of pomade he had apparently asked for earlier that month, and apologised. “I’m bored, not an asshole. Promise.” He had said. The interaction had confused everybody present and they all watched as Arthur swiftly shuffled away from the stares of his peers. Bill had spent the rest of that day mumbling to himself in confusion, trying to make sure there were no strings attached.

They were nearing the small town - evident by the horrible stench of sheep shit and damp hay - and they both noticed a small crowd by the gallows.

“Hanging’s going on.”

Arthur’s voice was small when he spoke, and Sean almost didn’t hear what he said over the distant shouting. It was only when they got closer that Sean felt Arthur lay more of his weight into Sean’s back, and only then did Sean suppose maybe it wasn’t a good idea to ride past a hanging with a child, especially after remembering Arthur vaguely mentioning watching his father getting hung while drunk.

Sean pulled on Ennis’ reins and rode in through the other side, passing the two saloons instead.

They dismounted and headed into the general store since Pearson had handed them a list of provisions to get while out. The bell above the door rang as they entered and the clerk straightened and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Sean greeted the man and took out the note. _Well shit._ He thought. _Can’t read a damn thing, especially with this damn horrible handwriting._ He turned to Arthur, who he caught by the window, eyeing the crowd as some dispersed, but a couple stayed, supposedly celebrating the hanging as Sean spotted them taking out some stools and drinking in front of the gallows. Something was brewing in Arthurs mind but the Irishman didn’t know what.

He gently tapped Arthur twice on the shoulder, as to bring Arthur out of thought without scaring the poor kid and when he turned around, Sean sheepishly tapped the list. “Can’t read.”

Arthur gave him a teasing smile as he took the note. He scrunched his nose slightly, and Sean hoped he hadn’t lost his ability to read when he aged down but was quickly relieved when Arthur told Sean he didn’t understand the appeal for salted offal. Sean was inclined to agree.

They moved around the store, picking out supplies from the shelves.

“Think that’s it,” Arthur remarked, placing some bags of coffee and cans of beans on the counter in front of the clerk.

“Most a’ this I don’t know why we need.” Sean picked up a can off the counter and tried reading the label, the large letters making it a bit easier, but the swirls and flares confusing him. “C-cained… canned…” He squinted at the letters but they refused to become clear under his glare.

“Canned apricots.” Arthur corrected him, taking said can and putting it away, ready to be stowed on Ennis. Sean thanked him and they left.

As Sean was strapping the sack of supplies onto the back of his horse, he felt a small tug on his jacket sleeve, he turned to see Arthur, deep in thought, watching the small celebration by the gallows. It was still going and had a couple more people than earlier. The kid hadn’t realised that Sean had noticed him and kept lightly tugging until Sean moved to get a better look at where Arthur was looking.

“I want to rob them,” Arthur said.

Sean whipped his head around, an incredulous look painted on his face. “In broad daylight? The Sheriff is right there.”

“I know, I’m not talking about a stick-up, just some pickpocketing.”

“And how d’ya plan on doing that?”

Sean was looking down at the child, his arms crossed over his chest, and he laughed to himself at how much he sounded like Dutch.

“Well, we can pull a small con, then rob them blind.”

“Kid, I ain’t Hosea, can’t act.”

“I know, which is why we aren’t going to take long. Come on and follow my lead.”

Sean couldn’t argue with Arthur, since he had already snook off towards the crowd. Sean followed like he was told but Arthur directed him to a small alley near the group, close enough to listen out for his queue.

Arthur approached the group and looked at them. “Why’s everyone so happy? What’s going on?” Sean could hear the immediate change of pitch in Arthur’s voice, making his sound more child-like and small.

A booming voice, muffled by laughter, replied. “We’re celebrating, kid! Can’t ya see? The man there’s gone, he been a terror to our livestock for months!”

Arthur looked up at the man and feigned fear as he looked at the lifeless body, still hanging by the neck. The kid let out a meek whimper and Sean felt his heart clench. _Damn, he was good_. Sean continued to watch in amazement as a lady wrapped her arms around Arthur. He could see Arthur scowling at the contact but quickly hiding it as the woman pulled him into her chest.

“Samuel! Don’t be showing this poor child dead bodies!” She turned to Arthur, “There there, where are your parents? No! Don’t turn around, you don’t need to see such cruel things at such a young age.”

Sean didn’t see Arthur reaching his hand into the ladies purse, but he did see him hiding his hands in his pockets, adding to his act of a feeble, helpless child.

“I left my cousin somewhere back there, I wanted to know what was going on, I don’t see him now.” Arthur whimpered.

The lady raised her head and scanned the area. Sean took this as his queue and snuck out of the alley back to Ennis, making a show of looking around him for something, or someone. He ran out into the street, asking the townspeople if they had seen his “dear cousin - young little Charlie!”

Sean made his way closer to the group, spotting Arthur among them, looking around with the lady and another man in the other direction, towards the stables. Sean ran up to the boy and spun him around by the shoulders, hugging him.

“Jaysus! Charlie! Don’t run off on me like that!”

“I’m sorry, I saw some people and I wanted to know why they were happy.”

“I know, I know, but you can’t just walk off when ya please.” The Irishman was surprised at how well he was pulling off the con, maybe watching Hosea and Lenny for so long drilled some silent skills into his skull. Holding Arthur near him, he turned to the lady, “Ma’am I’m sorry, I hope he weren’t too much trouble. He’s jus’ a curious kid.”

The lady smiled warmly at the two, “No, he was a sweetheart, don’t you worry there Mister.” Her smile faltered as she looked at the man still hanging behind them. “Just maybe keep him away from hangings, too young to be exposed to such horrid sights.”

Sean looked back at the gallows and nodded. “Poor boy. Alright kiddo, how ‘bout we got back home, eh? I’m sure yer mama is cooking up something real nice, ye must be starving!”

Arthur silently nodded, giving Sean a small smile. The two boys walked back to the horse, Sean carrying on the act by getting in front of Arthur’s view of the hanging man. When they got to Ennis though, Sean let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“That was the most stressful damn thing I had to take part in, in… ages!” Sean complained. “How d’you and the other actors do it?”

Sean mounted Ennis and pulled Arthur up behind him. They rode out of town before the group could notice something was missing.

“We pray and hope they don’t see through us,” Arthur chuckled, shovelling a hand in his pocket.

Sean sighed, “Thought as much, well, no point grieving, show us what ya got us!”

Arthur held out his hand out from behind Sean so the man could see him holding some jewels and money when Sean gave a low whistle at the take, Arthur retreated his hand and dug for more in his satchel.

“There’s more?” Sean stared at him, wide-eyed, the hand Arthur had shown him could get them maybe $50, give or take, but he looked over his shoulder to see the boy pulling out a wallet, a nice looking pen, and a ring. “How did ye get that?”

“The man, Samuel, he was drunk enough that I could sneak into his pockets and get some nicer stuff.”

Sean reached back to ruffle Arthur’s hair, earning him an annoyed huff. “Good job, kid!”

They arrived back at camp, Sean first went to the provisions waggon and handed Pearson the supplies. He sent Arthur to stash half the pickings in the donations box, before splitting the rest between the two.

Arthur went to a nice tree where he sat down and wrote in his journal, a small grin never leaving his face at his triumph.

Sean found Lenny sitting at a table and reading a book.

“Heard you took Arthur into town, I didn’t hear any explosions from here, so I hope all went fine?”

Sean sat himself down on a seat and made himself comfortable. “It sure did! Arthur’s a little pickpocketing deity!” Sean chuckled. “There were some folk celebrating some sad fools hanging, the kid went in, wrapped them round his finger and robbed him blind, I came by to give him an easy escape and you’d be proud of me! I did well! Didn’t break character once, I did!”

Lenny spared him a glance up and huffed out a laugh, “I’m sure you were great, friend. I did see Arthur putting a couple of nice pieces in the donations box, so I guess I have to believe you didn’t mess it up.”

Sean beamed under the praise, although vague, Lenny found this amusing. “I’ve noticed the kid’s grown on you.”

“Sure, he may be a little fucker at times, but I’d much rather him to the big ol’ grump we usually have.”

“Arthur wouldn’t agree with you, I don’t think,” Lenny laughed, “besides, it’ll only be a matter of time before he’s all grown up and back to normal.”

Sean scrunched his nose at the thought. “Don’t want him to.”

Lenny snorted at the other man’s sentence, comparing him to a parent, scared of their child growing up. Sean grumbled at that. “Well, maybe I’m finally taking responsibility for my actions and want him to grow up nice.”

Lenny chuckled. “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My schedule is non-existent so expect chapters to be further apart from each other, but I'll try to make it up by making them longer ;-;
> 
> If anyone seems out of character, I apologise, I got the idea and decided to run with it


	7. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the weird spacing between paragraphs, sometimes when copying the text from Google Docs it does that and I don't know how to fix it :/

Arthur had had his satisfaction on his trip out with Sean, yet he was itching for more action only three days later. He could feel his childish restlessness covering him in a strange blanket of energy. Funnily enough, Hosea had taken to wrapping him tightly in a blanket and sitting him down while he read out the latest stories in the news or a storybook Jack was trying to learn to read from.  
  


When Arthur does manage to escape Hosea’s grasp, the young boy is on the outskirts of the camp drawing in his journal, thinking to himself, or poking at the earth with a neat looking stick Cain had brought him one night. He didn’t much like spending his days doing nothing and he didn’t understand how the other members could do nothing but sit and drink all day, every day, without getting fidgety and antsy, and with Arthur now ageing to a fine eleven years old, week two of this horrendous curse, he could feel his teenage hyperactivity creeping in.  
  


He tried sitting near them, trying to join their conversations, but it was always about boring stuff like _their pasts_ and _local working girls_. The only interesting thing was when Sean or Charles came along; Sean going on long rants and stories, always filled with jokes; and Charles talking about his findings in the outside world, away from camp.  
  


Charles’ stories always made Arthur both inspired by the man’s gentle approach to everything, but also jealous and yearn for his freedom.  
  


Arthur once had that, freedom. Dutch always said they’d all be free, but Arthur was currently feeling the opposite. He thought Dutch knew about Arthurs dislike for sitting in one spot and twiddling his thumbs. The boy couldn’t even drink the day away like the others, as he was now considered _‘too young for drinking’_. Arthur thought it was bullshit. It was all bullshit.  
  


So there Arthur sat, cross-legged, with his fingers connected like those high society folk sitting at the restaurants when talking about important political matters or something of the sort - Arthur never paid attention to _what_ exactly they were doing - resting his chin between his index and middle fingers. He looked at his trusty steed, a huge bay shire he had named Robin. The horse was brought closer to camp than his usual spot, a convenient place Arthur had claimed for an easy way in and out of camp, but ever since Arthurs _change_ , the O’Driscoll boy had moved him closer to camp so Dutch and Hosea could keep an eye on him.  
  


It inconvenienced Arthur that the curious couple found him so predictable.  
  


Knowing that simply riding out of camp wasn’t an option, he thought about just waltzing out. “No,” he said to himself, “that wouldn’t end well.” He was right, sure they were near a town but that didn’t stop some shady individuals from lurking around, and a skinny, fidgety child is easy pickings for such folk.  
  


But what other options did he have?  
  


He doubted anyone would want to take him out of camp for a while, and Sean was out doing God knows what Sean gets up to outside of camp. Arthur had the idea it wasn’t necessarily anything the Irishman would want a child tagging along for.  
  


He thought about just staying back at camp and maybe poke at the fire for a while, but he wasn’t feeling like having to sew with the girls again if Grimshaw were to find him doing meaningless things in his bored state, and it didn’t help that he could get the goddam string to do what he wanted like some magician, there was a thought, getting Trelawny to abracadabra some chores done around camp.  
  


Just then, a butterfly flew by him. He watched the small creature as it fluttered between trees.  
  


He pushed himself up off the ground and dusted the dirt off of his pants before placed his new hat on his head - a simple flat cap that Hosea had bought him while out in Valentine, thinking it not fair that Arthur had suddenly lost his ability to wear his usual gambler hat and having to endure the merciless New Hanover sun with nothing to protect himself. The others had joked that now he looked like those urchins in the fancy cities, holding their satchels closer to themselves to tease Arthur for this, but Arthur would only play along with the joke and hold his hand out as if trying to pickpocket them.  
  


Arthur followed the butterfly mindlessly down the side of the overlook, he hesitated for a moment but figured he wouldn’t go far before turning around and heading back, besides, he felt he deserved at least five minutes outside of camp.  
  


When the boy reached the river behind camp, he stopped at the shoreline. The butterfly had simply flown over but he didn’t have that ability, so instead, Arthur kicked his boots off and dipped his toes in the water. The cool feeling of water picking at the dust and muck that had stuck to his feet on his barefoot adventures around camp was a welcome one. He walked a step deeper, rolling up his pants as to not wet them too much, the cuff of them already sporting a darker tone. He could see small fish swimming around his feet and it honestly felt as though he had never been by a river. Arthur knew this wasn’t true, vaguely remembering all the times he had fished by a river just like this one, or even just sat and admired the view. It all seemed so long ago, as though it was a past life, and it wasn’t because he had been in camp for so long, things that happened after his ‘current age’ seemed distant, but it all made him want to go in deeper.  
  


He did want to, but he wasn’t daft, knowing that going too far in would result in the current picking him up. The river may have seemed calm to just about anyone, but Arthur understood that he had lost a significant amount of weight and strength, and couldn’t afford to overestimate his abilities, especially without someone there to help him if anything went wrong. Just then, a twig snapped a couple of metres away, but it was just a deer, grazing nearby.  
  


He raised his head and looked around, laughing to himself as he must have looked like a deer himself, wading in the water, alert at the smallest of sounds.  
  


He was deep enough that he could feel a slight tug at his legs, a silent persuasion by the depths to let it take over. Again, he wanted to. Just relax for a moment in the river, but that was not possible. For now, he had to make do with simply standing in the water and having some time to himself, properly.  
  


He was content, but the back of his mind had decided to take in the thought of Hosea looking for Arthur and not seeing him, his worried face, eyes rapidly darting to every corner and hiding spot he could find, but Arthur simply pushed the thought back, telling himself he’ll be back soon enough, and let himself be. After all, he was a short walk down from the overlook, and he’d surely hear if they were calling and searching for him.  
  


A short ways down the river there was a tree that grew sideways, over the river, and sat on it, keeping his feet in the water. He pulled out his journal and started sketching the vast landscape in front of him. Dutch said the land out here was nothing compared to the west, being ridden with civilisation, but Arthur was inclined to disagree; although he obviously would never say so. The young boy found the rocky cliffs, thick forests, lush, green grass and winding rivers valid competition to the dusty, red formations and deserts he was used to. It didn’t make much difference to him where he was in America, he was used to travelling and seeing different ends of the spectrum of environments the country had. It all was a pretty sight, and it all had it’s own sort of peace when Arthur would sit down and draw what he saw ahead of him.  
  


Others had often questioned him on how he couldn’t sit still for five minutes but could set himself down and draw in his journal for hours and he honestly didn’t have the answer to that, he always figured it was that drawing was doing something, and something was far more interesting than nothing.  
  


There was still smell the faint smell of the campfire above him, and the telltale sound of Dutch barking some promises for a better life to someone. He didn’t give mind to all that, instead, letting his recent childishness take over as he lightly kicked his legs out in front of him, watching the ripples in the water made by his toes. The fish beneath tickled at his feet and he giggled. This was nice, he thought, some time away from camp to himself and not having constant babysitting and pampering.  
  


It was then that he felt something land on his hand, and when he looked down he noticed the butterfly had sat on his fingers before flying off from the movement of him turning to look. Against his better judgement, he followed, standing up on the fallen tree, collecting his belongings, and jumping to the other side of the river. The grass under his feet was a nice feeling as he chased after the butterfly, in true childlike manner. The grass was soft, unlike the tough dirt and pebbles found back at camp, sure there were patches of grass but it was all stomped down by the heavy traffic of boots and hooves.  
  


The butterfly led him to some railway tracks and that was when Arthur realised he couldn’t remember where he was. The area seemed familiar but he couldn’t place his finger on where he was. He turned around and only then did he realise he had rightfully fucked up, as he could no longer see the smoke rising from the campfire.  
  


_I’ll just go back the way I came_.  
  


So he walked back to where he thought he had come from, only to find much more forest than expected and not a river. He returned to the train tracks and tried to listen out for a river, or any type of flowing water, to point him in the right direction.  
  


Over the usual sounds of nature, he heard what he was searching for. Water. He fixed his hat on his head and walked towards the faint sound. When the sound got more clear, he realised it was not the same river, he couldn’t see the overlook, nor any of the cliffs surrounding it.  
  


_Well. This isn’t right.  
  
_

Arthur had really wished, of all skills he learnt he kept or lost, he’d keep his directions and tacking skills. He had already endured a round of teasing from Hosea for completely forgetting how to fish, and a jab from John for forgetting how to operate a gun, but he hoped a skill like knowing where he was going would stay with the other skills he had kept, which now that he thought about it, were meaningless, as he only remembered how to read, write, draw and clean weapons.  
  


‘Who remembers how to clean weapons but can’t shoot one?’ John had chided. It was all half-hearted, but it frustrated Arthur that the only thing he felt he was actually good at had suddenly slipped from his mind.  
  


From where he stood, watching the river, he could hear hooves somewhere behind him, followed by the faint sound of a carriage being pulled. With no other choice, he decided to travel towards the noise, thinking he’d be able to find someone and ask them how to get back.

~~~

“Dutch, have you seen Arthur anywhere?”  
  


The other man didn’t seem fazed by the question, he simply shrugged and grunted, his eyes never leaving his book.  
  


Hosea gave a disgruntled sigh and took another look around camp. He had already checked Arthurs tent and spots he knew Arthur liked to sit in, and he could see he wasn’t by the fire. His horse was still at camp, meaning he hadn’t gotten on and rushed out of camp, and he doubted Arthur was dull enough to walk out of camp, and even if he had left camp, on horse or foot, surely the people on guard duty would catch him.  
  


Hosea couldn’t help getting worried about the boy, about where he’d gotten too. He remembered the trouble he’d get to in his youth and scowled at the memory of the state they’d find him in. Luckily he’d grown out of sneaking out of camp. Or had he?  
  


Hosea asked other members of the gang if they had seen Arthur, and they had all either shrugged and waved Hosea off, telling him that Arthur was fine, or they’d shake their heads and point Hosea to a spot he’d already checked about a million times.  
  


He had even taken to asking Jack, knowing he and Arthur had been playing more frequently but the child only told the older man he had not seen Arthur all that morning. “He’s probably thinking or drawing in his journal.”  
  


Hosea thanked Jack, telling him not to worry and that they’d find Arthur, but it was only when Hosea turned to leave that he realised he was more telling that to himself than the kid.  
  


He hadn’t felt like this in a long time.  
  


Dutch had described him as a ‘paranoid parent’ and in some ways, Hosea may have agreed, but he saw himself more like a _worried_ parent.  
  


Or maybe he was paranoid? He didn’t know, and the running from one side of camp to the other so much had caused his legs to hurt and his joints to crack at the slightest movement. He supposed Arthur would appear in due time, as he usually does, and that he should calm down and take a nap. If the boy wasn’t back by then, he didn’t know what he’d do, but he tried not to linger on that thought.  
  


Laying himself down on his bedroll, the drowsiness pulled his aching body down and soon enough he was asleep.


End file.
